


Traveler

by bumblebeesknees



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Future Fic, M/M, Mortality, Parent-Child Relationship, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees/pseuds/bumblebeesknees
Summary: Alec’s not sure how to process that Max, his five-month old baby, is apparently a dimension hopping private investigator 140 years in the future. Magnus has a much easier time dealing with it.-“Sorry,” says Max, blinking rapidly. He doesn’t look away from Alec. He looks – Alec doesn’t know how to describe the expression on Max’s face. “It’s just... it’s been a long time since I saw you, Dad.”





	Traveler

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Українська available: [Мандрівник](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387031) by [Jumik89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumik89/pseuds/Jumik89)



> full disclaimer: i have not read the books, so as always the characterization and canon compliance is with respect to the show only. everything i know about max lightwood-bane is from his shadowhunters wiki page. THAT BEING SAID, everyone deserves to know that this fic spawned from the singular fact of max wanting to be a pirate when he grows up. :D
> 
> thank you to [partnerincrime](http://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime) for the beta! any remaining mistakes are my own.

Max is particularly grumpy tonight, refusing to take his bottle and overexerting his small, delicate lungs from the force of his wailing. He sometimes gets like this when Magnus isn’t here, without Magnus' magic there to comfort his own. Days like today can’t be avoided however – Magnus was called off to California because the sky ripped open above the Golden Gate Bridge a few hours ago and Magnus is one of the only three people on the planet with the magical acumen needed to fix this mess. 

“I hate to leave you,” Magnus had said, pressing matching kisses to Alec's and Max’s foreheads. “But this kind of emergency where the universe is tearing itself apart only happens every few centuries. Thankfully, I took a nap with Max in the afternoon so I’m fresh as a daisy.”

“Do you need me to come along?”

“Talented as you are, my love, I don’t think shadowhunter training covers interdimensional wormholes.” Magnus had leaned in to kiss Alec again, this time on the lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

It doesn’t take long for Alec to realize that Max’s fussiness is due to an imminent episode of colic. They’ve been getting less and less frequent as the weeks had weathered on – April was the worst, and Alec barely remembers anything from that month except bone deep exhaustion, frustrating helplessness, and holding on to Magnus every night in an effort to prevent an impending breakdown – but every so often it pops up again, a horrifying reminder of how much is beyond a parent’s control when it comes to the safety and happiness of their child. 

There was a time when Alec would feel like he was being ripped in two every time he heard Max’s awful, agonizing screams. Now he’s able to distance himself from it and focus just on what Max needs. Alec takes Max into his arms as he walks brisk circles around the loft, with his little head resting close to Alec’s chest, the sound of Alec’s heartbeat providing a steady rhythm for him to focus on. 

All in all, it takes Alec a good two hours to ease his baby son to sleep. He’s physically and mentally drained by the time he finally lays Max down into his crib. He makes sure the baby monitor is on, and ends up standing over the crib for a few more minutes more because he’s distracted by Max’s fingers, curled into tiny blue fists. Each is resting on either side of his head.

 _I love you_ , thinks Alec, carefully stroking Max’s soft, downy hair. 

It’s past ten; Alec hasn’t eaten since lunch because a hoard of shax demons entered the mundane world at Chelsea Piers and promptly scattered across the island. That in and of itself would have been manageable if all the other teams hadn’t already been stretched thin with other missions, including a domestic disturbance at a vampire den, a consultation with NYPD on the case of a missing werewolf boy, and an upcoming audit of the Institute. 

All this added up to Alec picking up his bow for the first time in weeks, going out to do fieldwork instead of putting on his mundane suit to go and smooth things over with the mayor. By the end of the evening, he’s low on blood sugar and dead on his feet – but Alec may have still stood in front of Max’s crib all night if he hadn’t been startled by a muffled crash in the living room.

Alec’s immediate instinct is to make sure Max hasn’t been disturbed by the sound. Next is to grab the seraph blade he keeps in his sock drawer; Alec’s got one of these stashed in every room around the house, much to Magnus’ dismay. “What if Max gets to these when he can crawl?” Magnus had demanded.

“We’ll get childproof locks,” Alec had said. 

“Max has _magic_ , Alec... do you really think childproof locks will keep him out?” 

Alec still doesn’t have an answer to that, but he figures he’ll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, Alec just feels both annoyed and vaguely smug that his paranoia and need to be prepared for worst-case scenarios is actually coming in handy. 

No one should be able to get in through Magnus’ wards. Magnus hasn’t had them down since they brought Max back from Idris – performing some kind of blood magic that Alec is ninety-eight percent sure is illegal – to only allow ten very specific individuals in. Magnus should already have gotten an alert of some sort that the wards had been breached – but if he had, he’d already be here. Something must have gone wrong. Alec can’t risk waiting around, not if there’s a possibility that Magnus never got the message.

Alec carefully steps outside the bedroom while activating the blade. His annoyance grows at the prospect of having to skulk around in his own home, following the walls to the source of the noise. 

There’s a man standing in the middle of the living room, someone that Alec has most definitely never seen before. He looks to be about Alec’s age, maybe Magnus’ height, dark hair, dark skin. Alec’s gotten pretty good at identifying suspicious characters and this guy is definitely shady – dressed in a long black coat, combat boots, and sunglasses resting on the crown of his head despite it fast approaching midnight. 

Most importantly, he’s tapping at the watch on his wrist with a gloved hand, muttering, “Come on, come _on_ you awful, useless piece of shit.”

Definitely distracted. Alec doesn’t waste his chance, not even pausing to activate his speed rune – he rushes toward the intruder and tackles him onto the ground, making sure that they land on the Persian rug. Not because Alec cares about hurting this guy, but because he doesn’t want the noise from the impact of a body hitting the wooden floor to wake up Max.

“Oof,” gasps the intruder. “What the he–”

Alec slams a hand over the guy’s mouth, cutting him off, holds the glowing blade against the man’s neck. 

“Shut up,” hisses Alec. There’s a limit to how menacing he can sound when he’s whispering, but Alec’s certain that his murderous expression more than makes up for it. “Who the fuck are you? How’d you get–”

And then Alec’s being thrown off with magical force – a warlock, then. His seraph blade falls to the ground as he crashes against one of Magnus’ display cases – the one that holds the raw ingredients for his most common potions. Wood cracks and glass shatters as the breath knocks out of Alec’s body. He drops to the ground on one knee, and all he can think about is–

Max’s crying pierces through the loft.

Damn it.

When Alec looks up, he sees that the man is frozen in place. He’s staring at Alec, shocked, eyes focused on the rune on Alec’s neck. Not for the first time, Alec wonders if it’s the wisest thing to have the marks of being a shadowhunter in full display like this. 

He stands up – pointedly leaving his blade on the ground as a conciliatory gesture – and gears himself to say hey, whatever this guy’s problem is with either Alec or Magnus, there’s no need to bring a helpless baby into this. But before he can get a word out, the man says in a shaky, unsure tone, “ _Dad?_ ”

Now Alec is the one who freezes. 

“It really is you, holy shi– I mean, _shoot_ , shoot,” the man babbles, rushing forward toward Alec. “I am sososo sorry–”

Alec automatically moves back, holding out his hands in the universal ‘stop’ gesture. He doesn’t know what to think when the man immediately complies. 

“Listen,” says Alec, giving the man an assessing glare. This is a strange and unexpected turn of events, but it doesn’t change the fact that he needs to get to Max. “I don’t know who you are or what’s going on here–”

“You don’t recog–?” starts the man, looking – upset?– but he immediately shakes his head. “Of course you don’t, I’ve got my glamour on and you’re like thirty–”

Alec’s twenty-nine, thanks, but that’s neither here nor there as the warlock waves his hand and the air around him shimmers purple. His skin slowly transitions into an inky blue, as does his hair, and then his eyes. 

But what Alec’s gaze catches on are the horns that slowly grow out from the edges of this man’s forehead. Horns which look eerily similar to the ones Alec has become all too familiar with – the ones that caused Alec’s baby days’ worth of unending pain when they were coming into being a few weeks ago. The ones that Alec carefully cleans with a cotton swab when he’s giving Max a bath, the roots still too sensitive for soap. 

What the fuck. 

“Max?” asks Alec dubiously. 

The man’s face breaks into a bright smile. 

Alec feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. It’s not like baby Max has that much personality on his face yet – despite being the best, most adorable baby to ever exist – but sometimes, when he’s in a good mood and he’s waving his arms and his little fist manages to bump into Magnus’ nose– that’s the smile. Alec’s used to seeing it on a softer face without that many (or really, _any_ ) teeth, but – but that’s it. 

“Yeah, Dad,” says the man. “It’s me.”

Alec gapes at him, and the only thing that startles him out of it is that Max – Alec’s _baby_ – gives a particularly distressed cry. 

“You,” starts Alec, still doubtful and wrong-footed, “I don’t know what’s going on but – I’ve got my kid in there and if you try anything–”

“I won’t! I swear. I’m not trying to cause problems.”

Alec doesn’t have the luxury of trusting these words. “Fine – you, you just stay there.” 

He doesn’t look away from the guy as he walks backwards toward the bedroom. He doesn’t know what else to do or say – if this guy’s lying, which is the more likely option, then he’s playing a pretty bizarre con and Alec had lost the fight since the loft was broken into. If the guy’s _not_ lying–

Alec can’t think about that right now. 

He focuses on the priority; with one last glance at the intruder, Alec opens the bedroom door and rushes to the crib. He doesn’t turn on the light in fear of it disturbing Max even more, but the glow from the hallway provides enough illumination. Alec carefully picks up a distraught Max, holding him close and murmuring, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, you’re safe. Daddy’s so, so sorry...” over and over again into his small ears.

It takes Alec a couple seconds to locate Max’s pacifier, and then another few minutes of doing circuits around the room to calm him down. He runs a soothing hand along Max’s back, keeping up a constant stream of quiet chatter – mostly repetitions of, “You’re okay, Max, you’re all right,” “I love you,” and, “I’m sorry” – until finally, _finally_ , Max’s breathing steadies.

Alec breathes a sigh of relief after he puts Max down, but the reprieve is short lived when he turns around he sees that the strange warlock – claiming to be Alec’s _son_ – at the doorway, gaze flickering between Alec and the crib.

How long has he been standing there? Immediately alert, Alec strides out of the room and closes the door pointedly behind him. 

The man says, “Is that me?”

“ _That_ is my son,” says Alec. “And you’re going to stay away from him until I figure out what’s going on.”

-

 

So it turns out that the blue warlock who looks an awful lot like Max – insomuch as anyone can look like a five-month old baby – really _is_ Max. 

From the future. 

From 140 years in the future.

“Yeah,” says Max. “I’ve never done the time-travel thing before. My job only has me hopping around different universes but I got into a... disagreement... with another warlock... and anyway! End of the day it’s all manipulation of time and space. Long story short, I just need to lie low until this spell wears off and I can go back.”

“What?” Alec doesn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. “What kind of job is this? What does this spell do?”

Ignoring the first part of his question, Max grumbles, “The spell just annoys me, mostly.” When Alec gives him an unamused look, he amends, “It imbalances my magic, makes it hard for me to gather the amount of energy needed to open a portal. It should reset in a day or so.”

The whole explanation sounds outrageous to Alec and his skepticism probably shows on his face. He stares at Max and Max blankly stares back. The longer he does though, the more the sense of familiarity settles in Alec’s gut even as it remains impossible to reconcile the man in front of him with the baby that Alec treasures more than anything else in existence. 

Alec would be a poor excuse of a shadowhunter though if he doesn’t try to corroborate his gut instinct with something confirmable. Unfortunately, the random facts about their little family Max states are too generic or too widely known, and any questions Alec comes up with results in Max saying an apologetic, “Sorry, that gives away too much from the future.”

“How do you expect me to believe you if you can’t prove it?” asks Alec. Though really, the fact that they’re both sitting around the kitchen island says plenty about Alec’s level of conviction. “I’ve got a baby in the other room, and I’d be the shittiest father around if I just let–”

“Jeez, I forgot what a hardass you can be,” grumbles Max. Alec glares at him, indignant and maybe just the _slightest_ bit stung because ‘hardass’ is what Izzy used to call their mother. Blithely, Max continues, “Don’t give me that cut-eye, it’s totally a compliment!”

“A compliment,” says Alec flatly.

“Yeah, you’re good at your job and good at taking care of us – it’s just annoying when _I_ have to be on the other side of it.” 

_Us._ Taken aback, Alec doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Deciding the best thing to do would be to pretend he didn’t hear it at all, Alec says, “Okay, well. You can stop hurting your head over how to convince me you’re Max without causing the universe to unravel. These wards are keyed into our blood, so that’s enough hard evidence for me until Magnus gets home.”

Speaking of which.

 _Minor 911,_ Alec texts Magnus, _Come back asap._ As he types, he hears Max squawk, “ _What?_ Then why were you interrogating me for the last ten minutes?” 

“Because I just thought of it,” says Alec. He continues to type to Magnus, _Max from the future (??) in the loft,_ to provide context. There have been so many disagreements on their respective, varying definitions of ‘emergency’ that Alec has stopped taking chances.

He puts his phone away and looks back at Max. “And you probably know that I don’t like taking chances on these things. You hungry?”

Max looks like he’s suffering from a severe case of whiplash. 

“I mean... hell yes, I’m hungry,” says Max, looking confused. “But don’t you... have more questions?”

“You mean questions that you’ll answer with, ‘sorry can’t disrupt the spacetime continuum more than I already have’?”

“Point,” says Max with a sigh. “All righty, then – what’re we having?”

“Can you use a stove?”

The way Max raises his eyebrows in extreme judgement and disbelief – well. Alec knows which parent he picked that up from. Magnus is far too subtle for that kind of display.

“You think you’d raise a kid who doesn’t know his way around a kitchen?” 

“Maybe I grow soft with age.” 

“Ha,” says Max, shaking his head. The fond exasperation – now _that’s_ definitely all Magnus. Alec is once again hit with equal parts incredulity and strange, cautious joy, even though he’s still not sure if he should be believing this. What if he’s subconsciously trying to find signs to support this crazy theory that this is _Max_? “You and I both know that’s a lie.”

Alec has a brief debate with himself on dinner, but ultimately he’s too tired to do anything except reheat things from the fridge. He directs Max to where the pans are kept in the oven, and Max casually banishes his coat and gloves – to somewhere – and goes to wash his hands. 

Would it be too weird to ask why Max dresses like an intergalactic space pirate? Maybe that’s just what the fashion is like _140 years_ from now. 

Alec is way out of his depth. Not in the way he sometimes feels when taking care of baby Max, the ferocious terror and delight and bone deep exhaustion which summarizes what is probably be the greatest trial and greatest joy of Alec’s life. Instead it’s just... bizarre. 

The Max in front of him is one hundred and forty. He’s older than Alec and though he doesn’t look it, he has already lived two lifetimes. Like Magnus, he’s got a cuff around the shell of his ear, piercings on the lobes; there’s also a single chain around his neck with the pendant of the deflection rune tethered to it. 

“You okay?” asks Max, frowning. “You know I could just conjure up some–”

“No, no – I’m good. It’s just – it’s been a long day.” Alec shakes his head and gathers his focus.

He digs into the freezer, pulls out some of the meatballs he prepped in bulk last weekend and a packet of chopped vegetables. “Put some water to boil, please, there’s pasta in the cupboard. The salt is – yeah, right there.” 

Max moves around the kitchen with the kind of familiarity that only comes from years of living in the same place. He also listens to Alec’s instructions without any clever comments – Alec isn’t surprised to find out a child of his and Magnus grows up to be a smart aleck – and Alec wonders if this means that this is something they do in the future. Cook dinner as a family. Even if it’s just defrosting meatballs and warming them in a pan.

“Make sure it’s enough for three,” says Alec. It’s only a little awkward to be giving directions to someone who’s apparently five times as old as Alec and still his son. Alec’s concept of age and maturity has definitely gotten broader the longer he’s spent around immortals. “Magnus might be coming back and who knows when the last time is he ate.”

“Ah, yes, Papa’s college student eating schedule,” says Max cheerfully. _Papa_. Alec’s heart stutters in his chest. They had decided only a few weeks ago that when Max is old enough to talk, Alec will be Dad and Magnus will be Papa. “I guess it’s okay to tell you that he’s still like that. Were you texting him earlier? Where’d he go off to?”

“San Francisco,” says Alec. “There was an emergency there with a wormhole.”

Max makes a non-committal, “mm hmm,” as he drizzles some olive oil into a cast-iron pan and deposits the defrosted vegetables. Alec, who is starting to get a feel of Max’s personality, finds this to be immediately suspicious. 

Growing up with Izzy and Jace has made him an expert at spotting guilty faces. He might not completely understand the mechanics of what’s going on with this tear in the sky, but he’s watched enough sci-fi movies – under immense duress – with Simon Lewis narrating in the background, to have a basic idea. 

“Does this have anything to do with your whole,” Alec makes a vague hand motion toward Max’s futuristic ensemble, “time-traveling debacle?”

“...Maybe.” 

Alec’s looks at him, appalled, and Max quickly adds, “It’ll be fine! The universe just doesn’t like that I’m here right now. If Papa can’t manage to close it – which, let’s be real, he can – it’ll fix itself after I’m gone.”

“Back to the future, huh.”

“Yep. Great movie, they recently released a remake.”

“Yeah, I’m still... trying to wrap my head around it.” Alec thinks he’ll be wrapping his head around it when he’s eighty. “What’s up with all that? You said your job got you into this? What exactly do you do?”

When Max hesitates, Alec sighs. “Might impact the timeline?”

“Actually, I think this one will be okay – it’s a pretty recent gig. Kind of hard to explain. I guess you could say I’m like... a private investigator.”

“A private investigator,” repeats Alec, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” says Max, tone becoming more enthusiastic the more he gathers certainty. “And the things I investigate sometimes has me going to different universes.”

“That... sounds like bullshit.”

“Wow, Dad, don’t hold back.”

“You think I don’t know how to spot a liar?” says Alec, raising his eyebrows. “The ridiculous part is that I believe you about the different universes, but not the other part. The investigator part.”

“Damn,” says Max, looking spooked. “Good to know you’ve always been freakishly good at this.” When Alec sends him an inquiring look, Max elaborates, “Knowing when w– _I’m_ hiding something. And calling me out on it.”

Apparently this is a talent he’ll need to put into use a lot over the years, thinks Alec, rolling the meatballs across his skillet as they brown in the gravy.

“Well, you know,” says Alec. “I’ve made some bad calls before where I didn’t trust my gut and let someone else call the shots. Still a work in progress, but good to know that it gets better. At least when it comes to my kid.”

“Huh,” says Max, sounding thoughtful.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird for me to think about you making bad calls. Like a normal person.”

“Huh,” says Alec. It’s weird to think he’s _not_ fucking up every ten minutes in every aspect of his life, though it’s still an improvement from it being every five. Maybe Max’s words are the product of wilful ignorance of a parent’s flaws. “I mean... with my own parents, it was hard to accept that sometimes they were wrong. I’m sure you weren’t happy with every decision that Magnus and I–” Alec hesitates. Something about that doesn’t feel right. “–that _your_ parents made.”

Max looks unimpressed. 

“I’m a hundred and forty,” he says. “It’s not hard for me to admit anything. Trust me, you guys didn’t screw anything up.”

That seems highly unlikely, but Alec’s willing to forego that line of questioning. Better not find out something awful and turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“I don’t know,” he says instead, splashing some more water into the meatball pan. “You’re pretty shady.”

There’s a split second when Max looks insulted before he breaks into a fit uncontrollable laughter. His whole body is shaking with it, and Alec says, “Hey, that’s dangerous when you’re using the stove.”

“Oh my God, stop.” Max wipes under his eyes with the back of a hand, still chuckling. “You can be such a–” He sharpy cuts himself off, looking startled. “Never mind.”

“Such a dick?” suggests Alec, smiling. He only ever has this much fun needling Jace and Izzy. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be, when between one blink and the next, your kid's more grown-up than you. “You can say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say _that_ ,” says Max. “I was gonna say, ‘such a dad.'”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Uh, yes,” says Max, but he’s grinning. “You can definitely be a dad without being a _dad_. Well, not you,” he amends, “but other people.”

As far as slights against his character goes, Alec’s pretty okay with taking that one.

-

 

With both of them cooking, it takes about twenty minutes to put everything together. Alec goes to the bedroom to quickly check on baby Max, and returns to find his infant son’s one hundred and forty year old counterpart settled back on one of the tall chairs around the kitchen island. There’s a place set for Alec; it’s the spot he usually sits at when he eats with Magnus. Incidentally, the spot where Magnus normally sits has been left empty.

“Okay, so since I can’t talk about my life without compromising the fabric of reality,” says Max brightly between shoveling down mouthfuls of pasta, “let’s talk about what’s happening with you guys.”

Max’s ability to chat while still eating like a starving shadowhunter after a ten hour patrol is almost inspiring. Alec sympathizes to a degree – he’s basically got the same lack of table manners at this time of the day.

Max continues, “I mean, how many kids get to see what their parents were up to when they were young? Though I guess Papa hasn’t been ‘young’ since the seventeen hundreds... but you know what I mean.”

“Wow,” says Alec. “It takes balls to call out your – Papa? – like that.”

“It’s a fun family pastime.”

Alec laughs. “Good to know,” he says. “Well, the favourite family pastime now is taking naps together.” 

It’s not where Alec had ever expected to end up, but even when he was a miserable teenager – gearing up to face a lonely, unhappy life until he got killed in action – there had never been a moment when this wasn’t what he _wanted_. Raising a child with a man he loves. Alec still gets overwhelmed when he thinks about it, so mostly he tries not to. Which is pretty easy to do now that he barely has the energy to chew his food, never mind have a freak out over how happy he is.

Groaning, Max says, “Naps! Please, Dad, you could at least pretend to try. I know you’re not this boring – aren’t you head of the New York Institute? Shouldn’t that involve at least some kind of asskicking?”

“Co-head,” corrects Alec. “I’m just going in three times a week with baby Max and everything, and so far it’s just been the usual business. Some lower demons popped up at the piers today, we’re getting close to shutting down a drug trafficking ring. Oh, actually,” says Alec, remembering, “you might get a kick out of this. Last week there were some imps targeting the suits on Wall Street–”

That case was a disaster and a half. Until that day, Alec had only known the bare minimum about financial markets, and he’d have been perfectly happy living the rest of his life without knowing why “the Dow Jones dropped 500 points and it’s not even _noon_ ” meant very bad things. Apparently the Clave has significant investments in the mundane world and having bankers drive up the demand for South American soybean futures threw their whole portfolio in disarray. 

Alec really should’ve questioned before now how exactly shadowhunters financed their whole operation before this outrageous incident. Receiving a personal call from the High Inquisitor is never fun, especially in the middle of him and Izzy laughing as they watched the increasingly bewildered coverage by Bloomberg TV. 

“I think someone recorded that news hour,” finishes Alec. “The unseen rune doesn’t work properly on camera – if you know where to look, you can see Jace running around with a charmed lasso trying to round them up.”

He had been laughing a little telling the story, but it must not be as hilarious as he remembers. Max is completely silent, staring at Alec.

He suddenly feels embarrassed, something that hasn’t occurred once around this grown-up Max. “Maybe it’s one of those things you had to be there for,” he says awkwardly.

When Max still doesn’t respond, Alec frowns. “Max? You all right?”

That seems to shake Max out of it.

“Sorry,” he says, blinking rapidly. He doesn’t look away from Alec. He looks – Alec doesn’t know how to describe the expression on Max’s face. “It’s just – it’s been a while since I last saw you, Dad.”

Those few words knock the air out of Alec’s body more effectively than a kick to the chest. Max’s easy smile turns strained and the silence in the room takes on a suffocating quality. Alec’s arms feel light and weak- he has to put down his fork in an effort to get a rein on his thoughts. 

Of course, thinks Alec. Max is one hundred and forty. Where – or _when_ – he’s from, Alec must have been dead for at least a lifetime. And that’s the best case scenario, if he’d died of old age. 

He doesn't know how to process this. Whenever Alec’s jolted awake in the middle of a shallow sleep because he’s afraid Max has stopped breathing, it’s like Alec’s own breath is robbed from his lungs at the thought of this tiny, helpless thing spending an eternity in an endless and unforgiving universe. That Max would outlive him is something Alec _knows_ but it drives him into a panic to think about. Alec’s never been scared of death until this miracle came into his life. Max is just a _baby_ , barely the size of Alec’s forearm. His foot, when Alec kisses the impossibly soft heel of it, doesn’t even reach halfway up the length of Alec’s nose. Max has already experienced more hardship in his short few months of existence than Alec can bear. What will he do without Alec there, to protect his delicate bones and even more delicate heart from everything that can break them? 

The only thing that can ease the knot in his chest during those nights is looking up from the crib and frantically seeking out Magnus’ face in the dark. The wrinkle that’s started to constantly mar Magnus’ forehead, even in his sleep, serves as a reminder that Alec isn’t in this alone. That Max has another person to be his fiercest protector. 

It never occurred to Alec that one day his baby won’t need him anymore. That Max will be his own person, capable of taking care of himself. 

Alec doesn’t know what it is, but this – this is what drives home that this man in front of him really is Max. The person his baby will grow up to be. Someone who gets into time traveling accidents and dresses like a space pirate and carries around a memento of his dead father around his neck. 

There are pinpricks at the back of Alec’s eyes. He can’t even fathom how confusing and upsetting the situation must be, to be put face to face with a person he must have loved and lost a lifetime ago, yet still have the strength to keep it together.

“For fuck’s sake,” Max mutters to himself, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Sorry, wow – don’t mean to be a downer. Just give me a sec.”

“Hey, no,” says Alec. He had already thought he was out of his depth but now Alec feels like he’s standing at the bottom of an ocean. “This is – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Max.”

Instinctively he’s out of his chair, walking around the island to where Max is sitting. If this was Magnus or Jace or Izzy – hell, even Clary or Simon – Alec would know exactly what to do. If it was baby Max, Alec would already have him in his arms, his small body tucked close to Alec’s chest. With Max, the visitor from the future – Alec has got no idea what happens next. 

“Why’re you saying you’re sorry?” grumbles Max. He lowers his hands from his face and other than his eyes appearing bloodshot and the way his skin has turned a few shades paler, he looks like he’s holding himself together. Shaken, but okay.

“Because you’re upset,” says Alec, his heart squeezing painfully tight. “And it’s because of me.”

“I’m not upset,” says Max with a deep sigh. “I’m the furthest thing from that.” 

Doubtful, Alec says, “You look pretty upset.”

“Because this is a messed up situation, Dad,” says Max, sighing. He runs the back of his hand over his eyes, wiping away any lingering sign of tears. “Would it be fucked up to say that I’m happy this happened because I got to hang out with you again?”

“No,” says Alec, finding it hard to speak. “No, that wouldn’t be fucked up at all.” His hands hang uselessly at his sides. He’s no good at this, thinks Alec helplessly. He’s awful with feelings and even worse with words. “Can I – do we–”

Absurdly, Max starts to laugh from his seat. “Yes, we hug,” he says, beckoning Alec closer. “We’re definitely a family of huggers. C’mere.”

This he can do, Alec thinks, relieved. 

“I thought I was a hardass,” he says, wrapping his arms around Max. It’s only a little awkward, but knowing that this is his son – in his heart, as well as in his head – it makes a difference.

“Only when we deserve it for being little shits,” corrects Max. “The rest of the time you’re emotionally validating our life choices and telling everyone that while duking it out in the training room is an acceptable way of resolving problems, it would be nice if we exchanged words between punches.” 

“Sounds like I run the place with an iron fist.”

“No kidding,” says Max. He pats Alec’s back and makes to move away. “Thanks, Dad. Honestly, I’m good.”

“Okay,” says Alec, squeezing Max’s shoulders one last time before letting go. He suspects that Max did this more for Alec’s benefit than his own. “Okay, good. Sorry that this is all so – so weird. There needs to be some kind of training manual.”

“Yeah,” commiserates Max. “But it’s cool. And I’m sorry that I brought up that you’re, you know. Dead, where I’m from.”

“I mean, I assumed I would be but – yeah, it’s kind of weird to think about. Less weird though than accepting I’m having dinner with a hundred and forty year old version of my son.” 

“Yeah, I guess this sets the bar for weirdness pretty high.” As if on cue, the clunky watch on Max’s wrist beeps, and Max frowns down at it.

Curiously, Alec asks, “What’s that about?”

“It, ah – it tells me where and when I am,” says Max. “Still not working right, though I guess I only really needed it working before I flung you against that display case. Sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“Don’t be, you’ve got good instincts. Shadowhunter training?” 

Max nods, and Alec feels a small spark of pride before it’s smothered out by the deep resignation of having to deal with the disaster their fight left behind. “I’ll... probably get to cleaning the living room in the morning.” 

“What?” Max follows his gaze. “Oh, don’t worry, I got it,” he says, and before Alec can get a word in edgewise, Max is waving his arm and sending a trail of purple magic toward the living room. Soon, Alec starts to hear the sound of crackling glass piecing itself back together.

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that,” says Alec, frowning. “Didn’t you say you had to gather your magic to get back?”

Max dismisses him with a blithe, “That was barely anything. What’s the point of having magic if I can’t use it to help my own dad? Even though I probably _should_ try to respect your obsession with doing these things by hand...”

“It’s not an obsession,” says Alec. He sounds sulky even to his own ears. 

“Dad,” says Max, disbelieving. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I went through years of watching you mop and sweep and do our _laundry_ when it would’ve literally taken me or Papa–” 

“Okay, okay. What happened to not giving things away?” Alec can’t get into this now even though Max definitely has his number. He can barely even explain to Magnus – never mind their _son_ – this compulsive need to use his hands for something useful, something that takes care of his family and contributes to the life they’re building in a tangible way. While Magnus probably _can_ do most things in a fraction of the time it takes Alec, Alec’s not some layabout who’d be happy letting him. 

“Is it really giving anything away if it’s just stating a part of your personality?” asks Max cheekily.

“You’d know that better than me.” Alec hesitates before saying, “I do have a question though. About the future.”

The humour on Max’s face immediately melts away. “Dad, you know–”

“This isn’t about how anybody dies or something,” assures Alec. “It isn’t even about me, or anything else I could influence.”

He needs to sit down for this. As he does so, Max eyes him warily. “Okay, I’ll bite – what do you want to know?”

Every sensible instinct Alec has is telling him not to, that the answer might not be what he wants to hear. It’s not like there will be anything he can do change it. But Alec’s always had a vital weakness when it comes to his family, and he gives in to it and asks, “Are you happy?” 

Startled, Max says, “What?”

It’s strange how all of Alec’s senses are on high alert in anticipation of the response, like being on the lookout for a potential threat. Even his autonomic system understands the importance of the answer. Alec thinks that this is what every parent must want to know whenever they hold their children in their arms: Will you have a good life? Will I do right by you, enough for you? Will you know you’re loved and cherished?

“Are you happy,” repeats Alec, through the lump in his throat. “A hundred and forty years is a long time, Max. And obviously – obviously it wouldn’t have been a walk in the park the whole time. But overall – has it been okay? Do you like the people in your life, your job?” 

Shaking his head, Max murmurs, “Of course. Of course that’s what you’d want to know.”

Louder and with more certainty, he continues, “Yes, Dad. Obviously I miss you and – and other mortals that I cared for over the years, but – yeah, I’m happy. The last century and a half’s been good to me.”

The relief Alec feels is so strong even he’s surprised by it. “Good,” he says. “That’s good. Tell me more about that. You know, as much as you can without unraveling the course of the universe.”

-

 

Things mellow out after that. Baby Max will probably wake up in an hour for his next meal, and his grown-up counterpart has an endless stream of questions for Alec: where’s Aunt Izzy? What’s the best thing baby Max has done so far? How does paternal leave work at the Institute? When’s the wedding going to be? Yeah, they’re married, but when’s the _wedding?_ There’s an ease to their conversation that’s astounding. Alec wonders if everyone talking to Max feels like they’re his best friend or if it’s just – family. 

When Alec hears the crackling of an opened portal a second later, he figures he’s about to find out.

“Alexander?” calls out Magnus, followed by hurried footsteps. “Is Max okay? His magic’s all over the – oh.”

Alec turns to see Magnus frozen in the doorway. He looks tired, as expected, after four to five hours of expending his magic followed by the creation of a cross-country portal. The weariness isn’t reflected in his appearance, however – Magnus’ clothes and eyeliner are as immaculate as always. It’s only through Alec’s years’ worth of observations that he notices Magnus’ slouched shoulders and the slight heaviness of his eyes.

He’s staring – gaping, really – at Max, blinking rapidly. 

“Hey,” says Alec, beckoning him inside the kitchen. Magnus slowly walks toward him and doesn’t take his gaze off Max even as he presses a customary, if distracted, kiss onto Alec’s mouth. “How was San Francisco?”

“Beautiful weather, lots of trams, a giant tear in the sky – oh, who _cares_ about San Francisco?” He gestures meaningfully at Max. “What is going on with – this?”

“Hi,” says Max, giving a little wave. At Alec’s pointed glare, he quickly adds, “I’ll... just let you deal with this.”

“Please do,” says Alec. To Magnus, he asks, “Did you get my messages?”

“The wormhole was causing some kind of electromagnetic interference in the Bay area – I didn’t receive your texts until just now. And when I did, I thought that the message got scrambled or something because there was _no way_ I was reading that right–”

“You were,” says Alec apologetically. “This is Max, we’ve been chatting for the last little while. He’s a hundred and forty.”

“Hi Papa,” says Max again, voice bright.

Magnus is staring at Max in with equal parts delight and disbelief. Alec imagines he had a similar expression on his face, but with more weight on the ‘disbelief.’

After a long pause, Magnus finally speaks. “I believe you,” he says, as he drifts away from Alec to take Max’s face between his hands, eyes roaming over Max’s features. For his part, Max looks resigned as he sits still and lets Magnus conduct his examination. “I’d recognize that magic anywhere. Max Lightwood-Bane. Will wonders never cease.”

“Well,” says Max, “this definitely went much better than it did with Dad.”

“Thanks,” is Alec’s dry response. 

Curiously, Magnus asks, “What happened with Dad?”

“He tried to skewer me with a seraph blade,” informs Max cheerfully.

“ _What?_ ” Magnus turns to give Alec a horrified look. “Alexander!”

“Well, I’m _sorry_ we don’t all have magical identity detectors,” grumbles Alec. “I saw a weird guy in our loft – don’t give me that look, Max, you _know_ that was suspicious – and did what any sensible person would do. Not that it helped.” He directs his next words toward Magnus, “We need another plan in place in case we’re attacked by a rogue warlock, Magnus. I’m still fairly comfortable with our rogue shadowhunter and vampire scenarios, but I got my ass handed to me today.”

“You and your plans,” mutters Magnus, turning his attention toward Alec and scrutinizing him from head to toe. He frowns when he gets to the cuts on Alec’s knuckles, gently picking up the hand Alec has resting on the counter. “What happened here?”

Meeting Max’s panicked eyes, Alec says, “Souvenir from our little mishap. Nothing a quick iratze won’t take care of. Have you had dinner?”

Magnus gives him a look that tells Alec that Magnus is _choosing_ to let this go. “No, I haven’t.”

“Why don’t you and Max talk while I get something for you then.”

“Um, because you’re clearly about to pass out–” Magnus starts to say but Alec’s already out of his chair, dropping off the empty dishes in the sink and heading toward the stove. “Good grief.”

“Yeah,” says Max, and Alec doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s rolling his eyes. Alec recognizes that tone well enough from his own voice. “He never stops being like this.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Now, tell me everything about the twenty-second century.”

-

 

Magnus seems like he has an easier time talking to Max than Alec initially did, but that’s only to be expected. Even without taking the certainty of Max’s identity into account, Magnus has a way with people that very few do. Of course, he’s met with the same stonewall of, “yikes, can’t talk about that without changing the course of history,” but he takes it in stride, his questions focused more on the magic that brought Max here and the alternate realities he’s visited. 

The only word Alec can think of is _heartwarming_ to see the two of them chat. There’s an aching tenderness that blossoms in Alec’s chest, the way it does when he sees Magnus holding baby Max in his arms, singing softly into his tiny blue ears. It’s Alec’s family, and he’s getting the privilege of seeing a snapshot of what they’ll be like in twenty-five, thirty years - Magnus, still beautiful and bright-eyed, as he listens to Max recount his mischief and adventures. 

Alec rejoins them soon enough and Magnus taking the loaded plate from Alec’s hands with a, “Thank you, darling.”

“I should probably say sorry about the whole wormhole thing,” Max is saying to Magnus. “Did you get that patched up?”

“It’s not a pretty fix, but yes, it’s gone,” says Magnus. “Why do you think the spatial distortion occurred in California when the portal brought you here to Brooklyn?”

“Probably because I was at SF – and yes, it was in another reality, 140 years from now – when I jumped through.”

“Because you got into a fight with another warlock,” verifies Alec, “while you were working on a case.”

Max grins. “Exactly. Guess he was looking into the same thing I was.”

“I suppose being a private investigator is quite the lucrative career path for warlocks in the future?” asks Magnus, and while his tone is warm, there’s an underlying irony that can’t be hidden. 

Though apparently it _can_ be ignored, given Max’s easy response of, “It would seem that way.” 

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue, my dear. I don’t know whether I should be alarmed or impressed.”

“Definitely alarmed,” says Alec at the same time Max says, “Definitely impressed.”

Alec has to laugh as Max starts defending himself, “It’s practically a job requirement when you’re hopping around universes like that! You should be proud that your son is so good at not disrupting the foundations of reality.”

“Very proud,” assures Magnus, but the humour in his voice has Max sighing. Magnus launches into more eager questions, so enamoured with having a grown-up Max in front of him that he probably doesn’t catch the way Max is idly playing with the rune on his necklace. 

Alec, who is watching the two of them, doesn’t miss it. 

Understandably, Max hasn’t brought up the fact that Alec has been long gone in the time that he’s from. Magnus hasn’t asked, possibly because of the same reason Alec hasn’t asked about Magnus. There are certain things though that has Alec fairly certain that in Max’s time, Magnus is still alive. Alec is a decent detective; he’s not blind to how Max is completely relaxed around Magnus, contrasted with the way his eyes keep drifting back to Alec from time to time, as though checking to confirm he’s still there.

Children are supposed to outlast their parents, go into the world and forge lives and families of their own. It’s that thought that has Alec only a touch melancholic at finding out that Max lives in a world where Alec’s no longer there, but mostly he’s just relieved that Max is happy and well, enjoying whatever his career really is and surrounded by good people in his life.

It... it’s different with partners. Of all the times he and Magnus have talked about this – life after Alec’s death – the most recent iteration had been different in a way that Alec can’t quite explain. It had been within the first few days of returning back to their Brooklyn loft from Idris. Baby Max had been only nine weeks old, in the throes of the worst of his colic. 

Alec had relocated to the balcony when Max couldn’t go back to sleep after his 1am bottle, pacing back and forth underneath the star scattered sky. It had taken until dawn for Max to tire himself out. Alec had collapsed onto the sun lounger soon after, the one by the balcony door and under giant umbrella. 

It had been a shallow sleep, Alec too aware of Max using his torso as a makeshift bed. He had dozed off until Magnus had found the two of them in the morning, startling Alec awake when he climbed in beside them. One of the things Alec recalls with vivid clarity are Magnus’ graceful fingers, how they had been painfully gentle as he stroked Max’s arm, swathed in soft yellow pajamas.

Alec had greeted him in a voice rough with sleep and fatigue. Magnus had run a careful hand through Alec’s hair, fingernails scratching along Alec’s scalp. It had felt so good that Alec had sighed, let his eyes flutter shut.

“Good morning.” A kiss on his temple. “Thank you for letting me sleep last night.”

It had been warm and humid, the way spring mornings are in New York when a rainstorm is on the horizon. Something indolent had tugged on Alec’s bones. He’d been ready to go back to sleep again, lulled by the feel of Magnus stroking his hair and the familiar weight of Max’s tiny body on his chest. 

“Did you know,” Magnus had said thoughtfully, “that you, my darling, are the love of my life?”

Alec must have answered an affirmative because Magnus had continued, softly and with great certainty, “I’ve lived for a long time, Alexander, and in that time I’ve loved and lost and loved, over and over. There have been times when I thought I would never recover from the loss, that I couldn’t ever open myself up like that again. But in all those years there has never been anyone who has become the very foundation that my life is built on, not in the way you have. You have been the catalyst for everything, my love. Because of you I have at once love, a husband, a child – all the reasons for my heart to keep beating. All the things that I’ve only ever dreamed of that you’ve made into reality. No one has ever come close to being what you are to me.”

It had only been then that Alec realized what Magnus had started off with: not ‘I love you,’ but, ‘you are the love of my life.’ 

“Magnus – what...” Alec had said, struggling to sit up and gather his thoughts. “Why are you saying this?” 

“Because I love you, and I don’t want there to be any uncertainty as to what that means. I know you know that I care for you, that I would move heaven and earth for you – but you’re also a part of me. You know things about me that I had left buried for centuries, rekindled parts of my heart I thought had been burned to ashes. There’s no page in my life that doesn’t have your fingerprints on it, no hidden corners that you haven’t brightened with your presence. It took me four hundred years to find you and I’m not – it’s not going to happen again.”

“You can’t–” Alec had started to argue before catching himself. He can barely handle this conversation when he’s at his most acute, never mind when he had been half-conscious and barely able to string together words. “I don’t like you thinking that way. You know I – I want you to be happy. After. Always.”

“I know,” Magnus had said, pressing a kiss to Alec’s mouth, the prickle of his beard familiar against Alec’s chin. “But it’s the truth, and I’ve come to terms with it. Someone like you comes along only once, Alec Lightwood. I’m going to be beside you until the end. Whatever happens after – that will be my burden to bear.”

While Alec has learned not to discount his own importance in Magnus’ life, it’s a constant, daily uphill battle to accept what Magnus had said that morning; a fundamental part of Alec never will. It may have been easier to hear it whispered under the darkness of night, something that could be tucked away as a quiet dream. But in the light of day, with the midmorning sun streaming down around them, and the distant sound of traffic below – everything had been rooted in reality, from the enormity of Magnus’ words to the vastness of the love in his eyes.

Alec hadn’t known how to answer then and still doesn’t know now. He loves Magnus more than what words and actions can adequately convey and yet that seems to matter very little. Mostly Alec is able to go on day by day without contemplating too much about it. He’s always been busy with his numerous responsibilities pulling him in every which direction, and now with Max – there are other more immediate concerns that take precedence than this strange, indescribable sorrow that overtakes him. 

After all, who is Alec to feel any grief in this situation? And perhaps more importantly – what will voicing it accomplish except put an even greater burden on Magnus’ shoulders? 

A knee gently knocks against Alec’s under the table. When Alec blinks out of his thoughts, it’s to find Magnus smiling at him, his eyebrows raised enquiringly.

“You’re being quiet, darling,” says Magnus. “Are we boring you?”

“Time-travel magic is complicated stuff,” replies Alec. “Can’t listen and talk and keep looking at you all at the same time.”

Magnus laughs and Max whines, “You guys, _seriously_.” These are the things that Alec should be focusing on, and so he does, letting the happiness in Magnus’ eyes ease away the weight pressing down on his heart.

-

 

Alec doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep, head resting on his folded arms as a makeshift pillow, until the sound of Max’s gentle, half-awake sobbing filters through the baby monitor and he’s jolted back into consciousness.

“I’ve got it,” says Magnus, running a comforting hand along Alec’s spine. Alec tries to get his vision to stop being so blurry, confused as to how it’s already three in the morning. “Why don’t you calm Max down while I get the bottle ready? You should go to sleep once I get there.”

“Okay,” says Alec, stumbling to his feet. “Yeah, sleep sounds like a plan.” In front of him is grown-up Max, who is curiously looking between Alec and Magnus. “You, future Max – don’t leave before I wake up, okay?”

Laughing, Max claps Alec on the shoulder and says, “Got it, Dad.”

Baby Max is a miserable crying mess. Alec wastes no time in picking him up and crawling into bed together, Max’s soft, sweet-scented head tucked under Alec’s chin as Alec rests back against the headboard. His little horns tickle at Alec’s neck. The pacifier will only work for a few minutes since Max presumably woke up from hunger, but that’s all that’s needed until Magnus comes in to feed him. Alec should probably change out of his work gear when that happens and brush his teeth. He’s not planning on shaving for anytime soon, so he should stay on top of the most minimum of personal care standards.

The reality is that Alec’s going to pass out the second Magnus takes Max from his arms. That ends up being sooner than expected – Alec must’ve dozed off for a few seconds because between one blink and the next, Magnus is standing in front of Alec and running a hand through Alec’s hair, gentle and coaxing.

“My poor darlings,” he says softly, tucking some of the straying locks behind Alec’s ear before reaching for Max and easing him away. “Come to Papa, little blueberry, and let Daddy rest his eyes for a minute. There you are, I’ve got you.”

It’s easier to feed Max while sitting down, so Magnus joins Alec on the bed, leaning into his side. Seeing the two of them like this, curled into one another as Magnus switches the pacifier for the bottle – Alec feels choked up for no good reason.

Clearing his throat, Alec says, “He, um – he needs a diaper change.”

“I’ll take care of it. You should get some sleep, Alexander.” Magnus speaks quietly; Alec watches Max’s small fingers clutching the bottle around Magnus’ larger ones in dazed fascination. “I showed our – other son – to the guest room, and we can figure out how to help him get back tomorrow.”

Still not quite believing it, Alec says, “That’s pretty wild, huh? Seeing him grown up?”

“Very,” agrees Magnus. Directing his words to the top of baby Max’s head, he continues, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, sweetpea? The troublemaker of the family. You’re going to give Daddy _so_ many gray hairs.”

Laughing, Alec says, “Don’t jinx it, Magnus. You know Lightwoods have–”

He’s cut off by the sound of another crash from the living room, the second one of the night. 

Magnus instantly tenses, and in the second it takes for Alec get alert, a booming voice carries across the loft: “Lightwood-Bane, I know you’re here. You think it’s so easy to dodge Jupiter Irons when he’s after you? I want my share of the bounty, you little shit.”

A pause, and then: “For fuck’s sake, Jupiter – did you put a tracker on me?”

“Don’t need a tracker to find you, punk. Still running away to daddy the first sign of trouble, eh? Predictable.”

Alec meets Magnus’ eyes over baby Max – who, thankfully, only wrinkles his brows at the sudden disturbance before going back to his bottle. In a very quiet, very dangerous tone, Magnus says, “How did someone get through my wards?”

“Probably some advancements in warlock magic over the next 140 years,” Alec murmurs back, activating his stealth rune before rolling off the bed and landing silently on the ground.

Magnus runs a weary hand down his face. He slowly gets to his feet, Max held firmly against his chest.

“We need to have some serious words with that kid. Maybe we _should_ move back to Alicante, at least until Max is older.”

“Oh, no, we’re not having that conversation tonight,” says Alec. The reprieve he’d gotten lying on the bed for the last little while makes his entire body violently protest having to be put into use again. He then winces as he hears Max say, “Wow, you really want a beating, don’t you?” 

Alec needs to make sure his baby has limited exposure to action movies. “I’ll go deal with this–”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Alexander,” says Magnus, voice quiet and serious. “I mean it. I’m going to drop off Max with Catarina and I’ll be back in less than two minutes. Nobody better die in that time.”

Alec sighs and says, “Okay, okay, get our baby out of here,” before starting toward the source of the noise, making a small detour toward the entrance of the loft to retrieve his bow and quiver. Alec has a feeling some long-range weaponry will be more useful in this situation than a blade.

From the second Max started talking about his shady job as a private investigator, that indescribable instinct that kept Alec alive all these years knew that it was going to cause trouble. Alec had just assumed it would cause _Max_ trouble back in his own time, and he was going to tell him to look after himself before he left. Maybe wheedle out a bit more information out of Max too, just so Alec could provide some relevant advice – after all, Alec’s intimately familiar with a dangerous job that requires frequent contact with unsavoury people and figuring out how to navigate around them. 

Clearly Alec had underestimated the terrible luck that he and Magnus – and now the newest addition to their family – have.

Max and the other warlock are still hurling insults at one another as Alec nears them. The good news is that a magical fight between two warlocks of unknown strength hasn’t yet broken out in Alec’s home. The bad news is that from what Alec can garner, Max seems to have double-crossed this Jupiter character from getting a large sum of money.

“We had a deal, Lightwood-Bane,” the new warlock – Jupiter, because of course he’d have a name like this – is saying when Alec peers around the corner to look into the living room, a mimic of his position a few hours prior when Max stumbled into the loft . His back is to Alec and he has green flames waiting in his palms, in contrast to Max, who has purple. Unsurprisingly, he’s also dressed like a space pirate. For all Alec knows, they _are_ space pirates. “We both bring in the Blackblood Ripper, and split the reward. You cheated me.”

“Dude, that was off the table the second _you_ made a deal with the Ripper to off me!” Max sounds severely offended. “And now you’re bitter because I turned him in to the Clave before you had the chance to literally stab me in the back? That’s some next level bullshit, man.”

Although Alec’s intrigued to find out more – thanking whoever is listening that his son didn’t grow up to be a career criminal as Alec was beginning to suspect – he does have a vested interest in making sure the home that shelters his husband and child doesn’t become a battleground for warlocks. He pulls out one of his arrows, runed with sleep, and notches it. But before he can do anything, there’s a blood curdling scream from the other warlock followed by an ensuing _thump_.

The sudden ensuing silence is deafening. Alec steps into sight and stares between Max and Jupiter Irons’ crumpled body. He’s passed out and glowing blue, engulfed in Magnus’ magic. 

“What was that?” asks Alec eventually, voice calmer than the situation warrants.

“Uh, I broke the tracking charm he used on me,” says Max, looking anywhere but at Alec. “I guess it was pulling on my magic and cloaking him or something because Papa’s spells kicked in the second–”

“Max,” says Alec, still serene, “you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Max winces. “Okay, sooo I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you that I wasn’t being a hundred percent accurate when I said I was an interdimensional private investigator.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out.”

Behind Alec, Magnus arrives back through a portal just in time to hear Max say, “I’m actually an interdimensional bounty hunter.”

-

 

Magnus explains that Catarina had an overnight shift at the hospital, and Jace had made a fuss about coming by and helping “deal with the problem” when Magnus had gone to his place next to leave baby Max. He doesn’t provide too much detail on how he convinced Jace to stay away. Alec figures that’s for the best. 

The three of them tie up their unwanted visitor with magic inhibiting cuffs and unanimously decide that he’ll be put under a sleeping spell until he goes back to the future with Max. After, they sit in the semi-destroyed living room to go over what happened.

“I can’t believe you guys thought I was some kind of felon,” says Max, sounding deeply insulted. Alec just gives him a disbelieving look, and Max amends, “Fine. I can totally see why you would think that. But still, come on – there’s no way I was going to be an outlaw with you two as my parents.”

“Well,” starts Magnus, but Max quickly interrupts him.

“Don’t even try to front, Papa.”

“Just to get this straight,” says Alec, “the Clave now puts out rewards for helping catch the most notorious criminals of the shadow world and people like you go and round them up?”

“Yeah,” says Max, shrugging. “It’s basic economics. Nothing quite like monetary incentives to promote targeted behaviour – though it was kind of a disaster the first couple years when everyone with a rune or basic magic was trying to get in on the action. Not any idiot can bring in guys like Marclox the Mad and the Full Moon Viper, you know? I think that kind of specialized service _deserves_ compensation.”

Magnus is beaming at Max with immense paternal pride. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

“I know _you’re_ okay with it,” says Max, rolling his eyes. Alec wonders if Max has just given up in trying to keep the future under wraps. He gives an uncertain glance toward Alec, but he just ends up shaking his head and saying, “I should probably get going in case something else follows me here.”

Frowning, Alec says, “That doesn’t sound safe when you just got in a fight and used a lot of your magic – don’t you need some more time for your power to stabilize?”

“Yeah, no,” says Max, smiling a little fondly. “That was a ninety-eight percent lie. I’ve been good to go since dinner.”

“Then why–” starts Magnus, but the words cut off with a sharp gasp. Alec turns to look at him, but Magnus is pale as a ghost, seemingly blind to anything but the deflection rune pendant hanging from Max’s neck. The memento Max carries, in honour of his mortal father. Almost unconsciously, Magnus’ right hand goes to press against his heart, as though to physically keep it braced inside his chest. 

“Magnus,” says Alec softly, but Magnus doesn’t seem to hear. 

“Oh,” he says, his dark-lined eyes oddly bright and opened wide, his blinks rapid. “I – oh.”

“Papa,” Max starts to say, tone gentle, but Magnus is suddenly, unsteadily on his feet. He stumbles a little when his gaze lands on Alec, and now his eyes are locked in on Alec instead, unable to move away. Magnus’ expression is frozen in an awful mix of shock and horror. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, but in each of those instances no sound comes out.

Not knowing what else to do, Alec reaches for his hands and finds them shaking. 

“I,” Magnus starts again, eyes flickering between Alec and Max. His breathing is getting shallower and his palms are getting clammy; his pupils slowly dilate, edging out the dark, warm brown of his irises. “I didn’t – I thought – I–”

Alec has never seen Magnus react this way, struggling to draw breath and articulate his words. “I’m here,” says Alec helplessly. What else can he do? “I’m right here, Magnus.”

Magnus, for his part, turns to look at Max almost desperately. “Max,” he says, the name coming out strangled. “Is he–”

Again, Max only says, “Papa,” but that’s more than enough. A terrible sound is ripped from Magnus’ throat and all of Alec aches to hear it. 

“I need to–” Magnus doesn’t finish his sentence, just slips his hand out of Alec’s and strides towards their bedroom, slamming the door close. The door faintly glows blue for a moment, and Alec knows it’s been sealed shut. Soundproofed, too, if Alec had to guess. Still, on the off chance that Magnus _doesn’t_ want to be left alone and is waiting for Alec to come and comfort him, Alec goes over to the bedroom and reaches for the doorknob. 

It’s locked. 

Alec feels the weariness of the last twenty-four hours slam into him. He walks back to the living room and collapses on the sofa, resting his forearm above his eyes before closing them. Alec doesn’t know what to do with this. He doesn’t know what kind of terrible grief Magnus is feeling, and what he could possibly do to take it away.

Sometime later, Max cautiously breaks the silence to say, “I think... I think given everything that happened in the last little while – it might be best if I remove me from your memories before heading out.”

It takes an effort for Alec to bring his attention onto Max’s words. “What?”

“Everything’s a mess now,” says Max, troubled. “You know a lot about what’s coming. I don’t care about the stuff like the Clave embracing capitalism, but – all the other stuff. About the family. My job. You and Papa – you’re important to how the next few decades pan out in the shadow world. We can’t risk the timeline getting warped because I influenced your decisions.”

Alec’s temples start to hurt, the sudden onslaught of information almost too much. “What’ll happen if we don’t?”

“I don’t know,” says Max, frowning. “But the rift in San Francisco is caused by my presence here skewing the timeline. I’m not sure what it might mean if everything changes.”

“Okay,” says Alec. He takes a deep breath, tries to think logically instead of being swayed by his aching heart. There’s a clear right choice here, even if it’s one that’ll cause Alec heartache. “In that case, taking our memories makes sense.”

“But?” prompts Max, reading Alec’s tone correctly. 

“But I don’t want to forget you and everything that we talked about.” Alec sighs, blinks open his dry, stinging eyes and sits up on the sofa. He rests his elbows on his knees, and covers his face with his hands. Manipulating memory is something that Alec’s generally uncomfortable with, and the thought of losing this experience with Max is – upsetting, at best.

“Don’t worry about that though, Max – it shouldn’t weigh in on your decision. I’m behind you on this; it’s probably for the best if we don’t remember.”

Max looks honestly surprised. “Really? If fracturing the timeline wasn’t an issue, you’d want to remember all this?”

Was that really a question?

“Of course,” answers Alec. “Obviously – obviously what happened with your Papa just now will be hard to work through. But everything else? Knowing that Magnus and I won’t screw up anything too badly as parents, that my son will live to be at least a hundred and forty, that he’ll grow up to be clever and brave and spend his time hunting down the most dangerous criminals out there to make the world a better place? No, I wouldn’t want to forget that. Those are literally three of the top five problems that make me lose sleep at night.”

“Oh,” says Max. Something about him suddenly strikes Alec as small, in a way that has all of Alec’s paternal instincts firing. “So you’re okay with the whole bounty hunting thing? Even though it’s kinda shady and I’ve got at least forty-two people out for my blood that I can think of off the top of my head?”

It takes all of Alec’s considerable self-restraint to not shout, ‘ _Forty-two???’_ “I don’t know if I ever got around to telling you this, but the stuff I did during the war – some of it was wrong, none of it was pretty, and all of it was questionable. I get that these things aren’t always so cut and dry. Besides,” adds Alec, “if I thought ‘kind of shady’ meant ‘bad guy,’ I wouldn’t be married to Magnus.”

“Point,” says Max, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “Wow, I – shit, I’m really glad you said that.”

Alec frowns. “What did you expect me to say?”

“Nothing different – which is probably why it’s even stupider that I was freaking out,” says Max, laughing. “I meant it when I said you backed us up on whatever we wanted to do, especially if it was different than what you would’ve done.”

That seems to Alec like he was trying to make sure Max never went through what he and Izzy had growing up. “Sounds like I trusted your judgment.”

“Guess you did,” agrees Max. “I mean, you did help us build it.”

“I’d run the whole memory thing by Magnus though, before making any decisions. He’s the smartest person I’ve come across, warlock or otherwise.” Feeling an odd pang of guilt he adds, “I mean, I’m sure you’re amazing–”

“Dad, chill,” assures Max, laughing, “I’m pretty good, but Papa’s definitely on a whole other level.”

“He is, isn’t he,” murmurs Alec, glancing hesitantly at the shut door Magnus is behind. 

Being powerful is one thing, and being invulnerable is another. Anyone would think that after four years of being together, he would know exactly what Magnus needs when he’s hurting but every so often, Alec’s reminded that he’s got a lot more to learn. 

Making up his mind, he says to Max, “I’ll be right back.”

-

 

When Alec walks up to the bedroom and knocks with a quiet, “Magnus?” he hears the tell-tale _click_ of the door unlocking. 

The ceiling lights are off, but the lamp on the bedside table is faintly glowing. Magnus is lying on his side atop the covers, facing the center of the bed. When Alec steps closer, he sees that Magnus is curled around baby Max, watching him sleep.

Alec slips off his shoes and crawls onto the other side of the bed. Magnus’ arm jerks minutely when the mattress dips from Alec’s weight, but his eyes – tinged red – remain trained on Max and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Everything about him screams misery, from the slope of his shoulders to the drops of water that cling to his lashes, the dark circles under his eyes. 

Alec hates seeing him like this. Before Alec had met him, everyone worth their weight in salt would’ve agreed that nothing was strong enough to beat Magnus Bane – and yet this look of utter defeat is a familiar sight to Alec ever since he crashed into Magnus’ life. How much of it is because of the distance between truth and fiction, and how much of it is because of Alec, and everything he brought with him? 

He lies down, curling his body until it’s a mirror reflection of Magnus’, the opening of a quotation mark to Magnus’ close. Even though Magnus knows every part of him, Alec still can’t help but think that there must be a thousand pages worth of words that have yet to be spoken between them – and that’s okay. They’ve got years ahead of them to draw it out and offer it to one another.

Quietly, Magnus says, “Jace put Max back to sleep. He also changed his diaper, and made sure he finished his bottle. That parabatai of yours has really been impressing me lately.”

“That’s not true, he’s been impressing you for years.”

“You can’t just _say_ that,” says Magnus. “His head’s already too big.”

Alec places a hand on Magnus’, the one that’s resting lightly on top of Max’s swaddled legs. “Our son from the future thinks it’ll be a good idea to take our memories before he goes back,” he says softly. Magnus presses his lips into a thin line. “I think what he’s saying makes sense.”

“Oh?” says Magnus, voice mild and detached. “I suppose it would be in everyone’s best interests to forget about that little meltdown I had back there.” 

“That’s not why I agree with him.”

“Really,” says Magnus, sounding severely skeptical.

“He’s... not really good at keeping certain things under wraps,” says Alec. “You notice how he always says ‘we’ and ‘us’ whenever he talks about being a kid?”

Probably against his will, a smile tugs at Magnus’ mouth. “Yes, I did.”

“What d’you think about that?”

“I think,” says Magnus, finally meeting Alec’s gaze, “that we should wait until Max can sit up by himself before we go looking for another son or daughter.” 

Alec laughs a little. “You mean you don’t want to hit the streets today to find the next member of our family?”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say because the gentle humour vanishes from Magnus’ face. His hand twitches underneath Alec’s, eyes flickering back down to where Max is resting. 

“Magnus,” says Alec quietly, twining their fingers together. “Please tell me what to do.”

For a long moment, Magnus is silent. Alec runs a thumb over the soft skin of Magnus’ hands, from the knuckle of his index finger to the jut of his wrist. Alec’s own heartbeat fills up his ears, thundering against his skull; it shares space with the ticking clock mounted above the dresser, Magnus’ deep, unsteady breaths, and baby Max’s softer, more rapid ones.

At last, Magnus says, “I’m not going to survive losing you.” 

Speaking around the lump in his throat, Alec says. “Okay.”

“It’s not just a matter of not being ready. I’ve always known I’m never going to be ready for that. But preparing for something that hasn’t yet happened and _knowing_ , knowing that there is a time and a place and a world where you’re no longer there–” Magnus pauses, floundering. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

In a whisper, Alec repeats, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, no.” Alec screws his eyes shut, taking a moment to gather himself. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. And never towards me.”

“I never wanted you to have to worry about this and now–” Magnus pauses, frustrated. “And now we’re here.”

“Well, that’s not very practical,” says Alec, “since I always worry about you.”

Magnus shakes his head, disagreeing. “This is different.”

“What’s different about it?”

“Because this is about what happens after.”

After. As though Magnus has mapped out the trajectory of his life as ‘with Alec’ and ‘after Alec,’ and wants to protect Alec from anything that happens in the latter. As though Alec doesn’t lie awake at night fretting over Magnus and Max and the life they’ll be living in a hundred years, wondering what he can do _now_ to make sure they’re whole and happy and taken care of. 

It isn’t possible for Alec to shut down the most fundamental part of who he is, the part that’s wired to detect pain and go about healing the symptoms, if not eradicate the cause. 

He says, “Do you remember that day, in the balcony, with Max – when you told me that–” 

“Of course,” says Magnus. “That you were the love of my life. Of all my lives.” 

“You also said that what happens then – that that was on your shoulders only.” Alec untangles their joined hands so he can reach for Magnus’ face, cradle his jaw. “I didn’t know what to say then, and even now I don’t – I don’t know if I’m saying or doing it right. But I’m going to be beside you for the rest of my life, and however long that is – worrying about your happiness, your future, all of that’s going to be on me, too.” 

Magnus’ eyes are wet. “Oh, Alexander.”

“I know I’ll never understand–” 

“Good,” says Magnus quietly. “You should never have to.”

“But I do understand loneliness,” says Alec, thinking of the crushing weight of the cold life he had waiting for him before Magnus barreled in and changed his course, irrevocably and for the better. “And I understand that I love you. So whatever it is that’s going through your head right now – I’m here, whenever you’re ready."

Shaking his head, Magnus says, “My head’s not a very nice place right now.”

“Your head’s always a very nice place.” 

This elicits a small laugh. “Only you would think that.”

“I have it on very good authority that that’s not true.”

The way Magnus looks at him – it would be enough to cause Alec’s knees to buckle, if he hadn’t already been lying down. 

“Did you know,” says Magnus, turning his head so very slightly, just enough for his lips to graze against the heel of Alec’s palm in a sweet, fleeting kiss, “that I’ve never felt loved by someone the way I feel loved by you? So – so completely. Boldly. Gently. Kindly. With such courage and grace and humility. I didn’t even know it was possible.” 

Alec has to close his eyes, even as Magnus continues, voice soft, “This life with you has been my most favourite adventure yet. And if it were to be my last, it would be more than enough for me, Alexander. Does that mean that it will? I don’t know, but I can’t – I can’t imagine a love more whole, or a life more fulfilling. That’s... that’s what’s going through my head right now.” 

Words fail Alec but as always, Magnus is endlessly patient. When he finally speaks, it’s another choked, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

What’s there to say? He understands why Magnus hadn’t ever laid it out like this. Until this moment, Alec doesn’t think he would’ve been able to stop himself from arguing. To say that Magnus has thrived for centuries and that he is extraordinary, leaving permanent marks in the lives he touches with his stunning beauty and generous spirit and compassionate heart – all qualities that will carry him forward, forge new lives and create new bonds. 

He’ll always struggle to accept that somewhere along the rocky path the two of them had embarked on, Alec – who, like anyone, has a few strengths, many weaknesses, and is by no means remarkable – has struck such a chord within Magnus that all of those factors cease to matter. Voicing it won’t make it go away, and the truth of it is that nothing will change day to day. Alec will continue to love Magnus more with each passing hour, to worry about the future, and between the demands of the world around them, they will continue to find comfort in each other.

“Okay,” confirms Alec, still feeling a little lost. “What can I do?”

“You already did it,” says Magnus. “This isn’t something that has or needs a solution, my love. You laid down with me and listened, and already it’s easier. Neither of us can see the future – despite Max’s little escapade – and we’ve still got a whole lifetime left ahead of us.”

Alec nods, sighing a little in easy contentment when Magnus draws him into a short kiss.

“Okay,” he says. “Did you ever wonder–”

“Never.”

The certainty with which he answers – despite Alec never having finished his question – makes Alec smile. It’s at once both surprising and entirely expected. “Never?”

“Not since that night I turned to find you scrubbing bloodstains off my couch,” says Magnus fondly, “and I plied you with drinks and it never once occurred to me to persuade you into bed. We talked until sunrise, and even then I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you – though I do distinctly remember _you_ getting distracted.” 

Magnus pauses to sigh theatrically. “I suppose having an excellent view of the city skyline is something of a double-edged sword.”

“I wasn’t,” admits Alec, and Magnus looks disbelieving. “Distracted, I mean.” 

“Really, now.”

“It’s just – you had gold under your eyes and when the light hit you like that – you were glowing. I needed a five second break to get myself sorted.” 

Magnus looks thoroughly struck. “I never knew.”

“Really? I thought I was so transparent. You were – and still are – the most stunning person I’d ever seen. I could barely put together a sentence around you.”

“How interesting,” murmurs Magnus. “I have to reconsider our entire relationship in this new light.”

“No you don’t,” says Alec. So dramatic.

“Don’t I?” asks Magnus, raising his eyebrows. “All this time I’ve been favouring red and black whenever I dress up for you when apparently what got you hooked was some glitter I haven’t touched in _years_.”

“You dress up for me?” asks Alec and laughs quietly when Magnus’ expression turns scandalized. “I’m kidding! But you always look amazing, so you can’t blame a guy for being confused.” 

Eyes soft, Magnus says, “Even when I haven’t showered for five days and forgot to clean Max’s throw-up from my shirt?”

“ _Especially_ then,” confirms Alec. “Because that’s the sign of being a good father, and I’m easy for hot, competent dads. You’re a... what’s that term? The acronym for hot dads?” 

“Alexander!” Magnus sounds like he can barely keep himself from bursting into laughter. “There’s a baby sleeping between us and his grown up counterpart’s lounging around the kitchen. There’s probably a more appropriate time for you to try and pick me up.”

“Yeah,” says Alec, sighing, “we should probably go check on him.” 

He carefully rolls off the bed, watching Magnus transfer baby Max into his crib. Once Max is settled, Alec walks up behind Magnus and rests his hands on Magnus’ shoulders. He presses his cheek against Magnus’ temple, gazes down toward their indescribably cherished son. Max’s tiny horns are bright white and seem to be glowing in the dim light. 

Unexpectedly, Alec remembers when they first came out a few weeks ago and he spent a frantic fifteen minutes poking holes in all of Max’s little hats in preparation for an unexpected cold front. Thinking about it makes Alec’s heart stutter in his chest. Max is so small, so helpless. And he’s going to be so big one day, so capable and independent.

“He’s going to be difficult,” says Magnus, and there’s a smile in his voice. “I got the feeling he was downplaying how good he is at this bounty hunting business.”

“Good thing we’re used to challenges, then,” says Alec. In a more solemn note, he adds, “I don’t want to forget about him, Magnus.”

Placing his own hand over one of Alec’s, Magnus says, “Then we won’t.”

-

 

Back in the living room, there is an open, shimmering green portal in front of the balcony doors. Max isn’t paying it any mind and lying on the sofa. He’s using a glowing purple ball of magic as something of a yo-yo, throwing it in the air and drawing it back. He looks at ease, the way one does when at home. 

The thought sends through Alec an unexpected wave of warmth, even though Alec suspects Max probably moved out and got his own place the second he had the chance. Or perhaps he started traveling, visiting the forgotten corners of the world in search for excitement and coming back only when homesick. Or maybe he went to learn from the other warlocks in the Spiral Labyrinth. 

Or maybe he did none of those things, or he did all of them. Alec won’t ask. He’s more than happy to be surprised by what awaits their family ten, twenty, fifty years from now. 

Max sits up when he sees the two of them approach. 

“Sorry for leaving you like that,” says Magnus regretfully, taking a seat across from Max. “Lots to talk about and I also had to go get baby you back from Jace.”

Max waves away his apology. 

“What? Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I should be hopping into a portal back soon, anyways. Did Dad tell you about–”

“Yeah, I did,” says Alec, sitting down beside Magnus. “Max – wait, before we get into that.” Alec points to the glowing portal. “Is it okay that that’s open for so long? What if something comes in from the other side?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” says Max. “It’s keyed in to my magic so only I can go back and forth into that. It kinda has to be to avoid problems – these need really precise coordinates in spacetime so setting it up sometimes takes a while.”

Alec has a bad feeling about this. 

Magnus must agree, because he delicately asks, “And... what are the chances that another you could be popping in through there?”

“Very small,” assures Max. “So tiny. Less than point two five percent. I ran the numbers while waiting for you guys. Unless there's an even more future version of me messing around with time loops – highly unlikely after today, especially since I ended up here by accident – it’s impossible.” 

Either Max is a magical, mathematical genius or the most masterful bullshitter Alec has ever met. 

“I understood maybe half of that, but we trust you, so – okay.” Alec takes a deep breath and continues, “Max, we decided we don’t want to forget about this, even if it messes up the timeline.”

Max reels back, surprised. “Wow, okay,” he says, blinking widely. “That was frank. And unexpected.”

“I understand that there might be some... San Francisco-like repercussions as a consequence of our choice,” says Magnus slowly. “But hopefully I’ll be able to patch those up as they become known, rope some others in to help.”

“Mostly we just want to make sure that you’ll be going back to your future, the future you know,” says Alec. “How will it affect you?”

“I honestly have no idea,” says Max. “I mean, I guess it’s possible that this _is_ my timeline and you guys just never brought up that future-me popped in once when I was a baby.” He looks spooked, and Alec supposes he’s got that right. “That’s way too trippy to think about. That maybe when you were yelling at me for getting in trouble in school... you guys may have already known that I’d eventually be... hunting down criminals for money...”

Alec and Magnus share a bewildered look. 

“Okay...?” says Alec. “Does that mean you’ll be fine? That you won’t get in trouble?”

“Sorry, give me a second,” says Max, holding up a hand in an accompanying gesture. There’s a look of complete dismay and bafflement on his face. “I’m just reassessing my whole life in light of this new information.”

Like father like son, thinks Alec. Magnus gently elbows his ribs in admonishment, even though Alec definitely did _not_ say that out loud.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” says Magnus thoughtfully. “I think the worst case scenario here is that Max finds himself in a future he doesn’t recognize at all because a secondary timeline was created – one where he takes our memories and one where he doesn’t. If it’s really messed up, he can hop around and find the universe he’s familiar with and just let himself live there.”

Alec doesn’t understand. “How can us remembering this mess things up _that_ badly? It’s not like I’m going to go and petition that the Clave never–”

Max interrupts to say, “Nope! That’s a no good, very bad line of thought. If you guys aren’t gonna let me take your memories, then you _can’t_ make any decisions based on what just happened.”

The expression on Magnus’ face can only be described as mischievous. 

“Unless,” he says, “that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.” Max groans; at Alec’s inquisitive look, Magnus just shrugs. “Time paradox.”

Shaking his head, Alec says, “We’re going to twist ourselves in knots thinking about all that. How about we promise to just – to do what we feel is best and hope that doesn’t screw things up too badly?”

Max looks incredibly annoyed. 

“This really would be so much easier if you just let me wipe the last eight hours.”

“And forget what a fine young man my son grows up to be?” asks Magnus. “I think not.”

“ _Papa_ ,” says Max, sounding horribly embarrassed. Alec coughs into his hand in an effort to hide his smile. “Why is everyone in this room pretending that I’m not a devilishly charming miscreant?”

“Nobody in this room is pretending that,” says Alec, and Max glares at him. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

Magnus walks over to Max, who automatically stands up at Magnus’ approach. “But, my dear blueberry,” he says, taking Max’s face between his hands once more, “you’re also clearly very good at what you do and dedicated toward maintaining the integrity of the universe – and yet you were still willing to let both of those suffer a little bit to spend time with your Dad. That sounds like a fine young man to me.”

“Jeez,” says Max, as Magnus kisses his forehead. “Way to call me out.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I bet,” says Max, carefully extracting himself. He looks between Alec and Magnus and gives them a big, if weary, smile. “Well, parents, I think it’s time for me to head back. Thanks for being cool about my crashing here and... sorry for the problems that it caused.”

“Nonsense,” says Magnus, embracing him. “I mean, needless to say, don’t ever do that again when there’s a baby in the house, but it was a miracle we got to see you like this. I want to pre-emptively congratulate myself for doing a good job with the parenting business.”

Laughing, Max says, “Maybe wait until I pass my teenage years before congratulating anyone.”

“Do you need anything before you go?” asks Alec, feeling oddly bereft. The sky outside is lightening, minutes away from sunrise. There’s something melancholy and fitting that this is when Max would depart. “Breakfast? Something in mint condition from 2020 that you can pawn at an antique store in the future?”

Max groans. 

“You’re the worst,” he says, letting go of Magnus to look at Alec, exasperated. “Why are you like this?”

“Lightwood family curse,” replies Alec and Max rolls his eyes. Just like every other time Alec gets a good look at Max’s face, it once again hits Alec like a kick to the chest that this is his _son_. Not his flesh and blood but the product of his and Magnus’ love, which seems infinitely more important. To see him grown-up, alive and thriving and making his mark in the world is, as Magnus said, a miracle. 

It’s not often that Alec gets attached to people – and never mind get this attached, this quickly – but if anyone deserves to be an exception to the rule, it would be his son. After all, Alec had fallen in love with baby Max the second he’d held the tiny blue warlock in his arms. It had been so whole and immediate, the tenderness so vast and overwhelming that Alec had almost cried. And then he _had_ cried the moment Max had been soothed into sleep and placed to rest in the bassinet someone at the Academy scrounged up. 

Alec’s arms had been shaking, his whole body wracking with the effort it took to keep silent. It’s only fitting that Alec would feel that same terrible, exquisite weight of that love right now. 

Overcome, it’s the easiest, most instinctive thing for Alec to draw Max into a fierce hug. The Max in front of him is his own person, his own man, someone who Alec would easily be friends with – and simultaneously, he is still the baby napping in the other room, with his sweet blue eyes and tiny white horns for whom Alec would do anything to keep him safe from harm. 

Max clutches him back just as tight. 

“We miss you every day,” he says quietly for Alec’s ears only, voice rough. Alec has to squeeze his eyes shut, unable to grasp it – that a century from now he’ll be remembered not just as a leader, but as someone who was, hopefully, a good husband and father.

“I’m going to love you and be proud of you for every second of your entire life,” promises Alec. “You remember that.”

Max pulls away, eyes red. Alec’s pretty sure he looks the same. “I will,” he says. 

-

 

There’s something inside Alec that feels a little hollow after Max steps through the portal and seals it shut. He stares out the glass doors of the balcony until Magnus gently grasps his elbow. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, darling?”

“I don’t know,” says Alec, voice cracking. “Mostly I’m kind of scared that if I go to sleep, it’ll turn out that I made this all up. Like an unbelievable dream. I don’t – I don't know if I can handle that.”

“I’ll be there to remind you it was real.” Magnus rests his head on Alec’s shoulder. “All of it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning to face Magnus. 

“I swear,” says Magnus, holding out his pinkie finger expectantly. When Alec hooks his own to seal the promise, Magnus starts tugging them toward the bedroom door. “I do have all your frantic text messages saved. Now, come to bed with me and we can enjoy having a baby who isn’t yet a cross dimensional bounty hunter.”

Helpless to Magnus’ pull and never wanting it to be any different, Alec follows.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! please feel free to drop a comment if you enjoyed :D


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